Harley laughs and hops back onto the bike, turning it on. “Let’s get back to the house and install those cameras before it gets dark.”
Instantly my mood deflates. I hate that after all these years, Dean is still stealing my happiness. I climb on, my body lax against Harley as we make our way back to the house.
Once we pull into my small driveway, Harley parks his bike behind my car. I hop off, racing to the door to get inside and pee. Harley comes in after me, closing the door, but I'm already in the bathroom. It takes me a few minutes to clean up and wet my face with a damp towel, just needing to give myself a few extra minutes.
By the time I walk out, Harley has the cameras laid out next to him on the couch and is reading through the instructions.
“Ah, a man that does read the instructions,” I dig at him, walking into the kitchen for a glass of water.
He laughs. “I usually don’t, but I want to make sure it's done right.”
He reads through all of the instructions and gets busy installing one camera right outside the door. We opted for extra security and got one for each door, and another for the corner of the garage. By the timethe last one is installed, it’s dark out, and I’m shining the flashlight to help him put in the last screw.
He comes down the ladder and looks over at me. “That should be good. Now we can sync it and get it connected to the wifi.”
I smile, taking a step closer, onto the bottom step of the ladder, not quite reaching all the way to Harley, but he bends down and meets me low enough to land a quick kiss on his lips.
He grins into me. “I’m thinking pizza and a movie before I head out.”
My bottom lip sticks out just a little, pouting that he can't stay here. We fucked on his motorcycle and still haven’t talked about what we are. It is clear that I have feelings, but I can’t stop the anxiety of what if it's just the familiarity and closure we needed years ago.
He folds up the ladder and puts it back in the tiny garage. We head inside and order our pizza, clicking on Netflix to relax.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HARLEY
I sit there,knowing it's time to go. I realize we have still only held small talk. I don’t even know what she does for work. I know she had come from Lincoln to help Atlas with Aria when Asher deploys, but we haven’t gotten past that.
“Early morning tomorrow?” I ask, looking over at her. She looks so content, her legs curled and a blanket draped over her.
She looks over at me with a small smile. “Not really early, but I have to be at the shop around 9 AM.”
“What shop?” I ask, already thinking of all the ways I might be able to lay eyes on her tomorrow.
“I help run the bookstore off of main street.” A wild smile spreads across her face. She loved her books when she was younger. “Miss Philch loves her bookstore, but she doesn’t want to be in the shop as much as she used to be. Her daughter had her first grandbaby, around the same time Atlas had Aria, and that's how I got the job.”
That fits her perfectly.
“So it’s not a job you dread heading off to in the morning?” I tease.
She lets out a laugh. “Not at all. I love when it’s just me. I get to read when it's slow.”
I love that for her, and I'm glad she has it.
The coffee bean roastery is across town, so there’s really no room for the “I just so happened to be in the area” excuse. I’ll have to get creative, I guess. Leaning over, I grab her hand and kiss her knuckles.
I don’t want to go, but I've been here since before 8 AM, and I don’t want to intrude. Plus, a lot has happened in that time frame, and she might want to decompress alone.
I get to my feet, and she gets up, closing the distance between us, and throws her arms around my torso. I wrap my arms around her, inhaling her scent and leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head. When we were fifteen and sixteen, we didn’t have moments like this. We were just lusty teens. We made out and pawed at each other. Wrote notes back and forth, shared lunch, and I used to bring her favorite candy bar and wrap the notes around it.
I smile, thinking back to how easy it used to be to make her smile, before she had to experience so much grief and torment. My heart hurts for the amount of unease she’s probably experienced through the years.
“Don’t forget to turn your notifications on for the camera app,” I remind her.
She nods her head and pulls her phone out. I realize I’m holding my breath to see if she has a reaction when she checks it. No reaction comes, and I let my breath out, assuming that means no messages have come through.
“Done,” she says with a smile, looking back up at me and slipping her phone in her back pocket.
